Ortega was wrong. He slept like a log that night, just had some very specific dreams featuring his boss. He woke up hard. After what happened yesterday, he saw her in a new light.
At the store, she looked more gorgeous than ever. Her golden hair was no longer tied in a ponytail; it cascaded down her shoulders in waves. Her lips looked juicier. Her walk, sultrier. She was more present too, smiling more, not just staying in the back room but assisting him upfront.
There was an air between them, very electric. Subconsciously, they avoided direct interactions. Still, there were the occasional brushes along the way. With her helping upfront, Ortega's workload reduced, but he still felt like he was burdening her. This was what she paid him for, after all. Yet, he didn't tell her to rest, though he wanted to, because for some reason he felt this was what she wanted. And frankly, he could use the extra help.
But she was too distracting. Not that he was complaining. Her proximity was delicious. Her scent made numbers blur in his head whenever he processed payments. Their "accidental" brushes were becoming too frequent to be accidental.
Customers trickled in and kept them busy. Ortega had questions to ask, but he kept them to himself. Miss Mae wasn't in the mood to talk. The only words exchanged between them were their greetings when he came in, picked up his apron, and tied it. He'd come early, but she was already there. He'd noticed the bags under her eyes. She couldn't sleep either. Ortega felt bad for hoping it was because she'd been up all night thinking about him, then berated himself for being too forward.
Now they were the only ones in the store. Suddenly, the place didn't seem so spacious.
He watched her from behind the counter, how naturally her hips swayed as she walked, dusting the shelves on her tiptoes. Slowly, Ortega found himself drifting into her orbit just as she called for a stool to reach the top shelf. He brought it, and as she climbed, the stool wobbled under her weight and she lost balance.
Thankfully, Ortega was there to catch her.
Because of the angle of her fall, he had to rush, and they both went down together. He managed to control her weight so they crashed gently, her on top of him, his arm wrapped tightly around her.
Their breaths punctuated the silence.
Ortega became aware of how tangled they were. How soft and right her curves felt against him. He was sure she felt it too, because she didn't move, her mild shock dissolving into something lustful.
It was only a flash.
She blinked, blushed, and patted his shoulder. Ortega released her, though she lingered a moment before standing. As she did, her knee brushed his crotch. He got up right after her, thankful she didn't see the tent in his trousers and, at the same time, a little unhappy her warmth didn't linger longer.
Minutes later, the last customer left. Silence filled the air. Everything that needed doing was done, forcing them to sit in it, pretending not to feel the tension. Ortega busied himself wiping the polished counter when she asked,
"So… you live around here?"
"Yeah. About three blocks away."
"Alone?"
That gave him pause. He looked up at Miss Mae. Her eyes darted around, anywhere but at him.
He smirked. "Yeah… alone."
There was electricity in the way he said it.
---
Ortega was hot and sweaty, breathing hard and hard as he pushed in, deeper, longer. He felt like he was about to explode. Then the timer rang, and he released, catching his breath, spent, lying on his back, chest heaving and pumped. Shoulders and triceps burning. Longest time yet. He smiled in ecstasy. It was hard, but he conquered.
Miss Mae watched him, amused. "Is that all?"
Ortega's head snapped toward the sound. She stood by the beaded curtain, not even bothering to hide her voyeuristic grin.
"You… were watching?"
"Had to. The grunts were alarming."
A different kind of heat climbed Ortega's face. He clutched his shirt from atop the counter, wrestling with whether to put it on. Then he exhaled. He liked the way her eyes roamed over him. He tucked in his gut just enough to make his abs pop more, not that he needed to. His physique already looked carved, his body fat low enough that even without a pump he looked strong and lean.
Just then, the doorbell chimed. Miss Mae laughed as Ortega hurriedly pulled his shirt over his head. The sound made him feel spicy.
He attended to the boy who came to buy candles.
The swish of beads made him glance back at the curtain. He imagined Miss Mae inside, touching herself to him.
Fuck. He was hard again.
He spent the next few minutes staring at the beaded curtain, wondering what lay beyond, thinking of a perfect excuse to go in. It was past denial now. He wanted her.
The curtain loomed before him, daring him to cross. Ortega stopped himself. All this might just be a game for her. Though he doubted it by now, the possibility still gnawed at him. Maybe she didn't want him the way he wanted her.
It would suck to come off as desperate.
But three days from now, he'd quit. Before that, he needed clarity, for himself.
He leaned on the wall, exhaled, and called softly,
"Miss Mae? We need to talk."
Silence. Long and thick.
Then,
"Just Mae is fine." Her voice was soft.
"Come inside."
Ortega's breath caught.
Ortega swallowed. Knowing what this meant, he still asked if she was sure, and when she remained firm, he didn't hesitate.
The back room was small but clean. Crates on crates and broken furniture were packed neatly in the corner. 'Twas a makeshift resting space.
The whole place scented like her. Mae lay on the bed, pillow clutched against her chest, sunlight from the window bathing her face in a warm glow. The sight was bold and provocative yet so vulnerable. He leaned against the wall and watched her sit up to watch him. This room could've been bigger, and she might've sat further, but he'd still feel her all the same: the memory of her touch, her softness wrapped around him. His rational mind said this was happening too fast, that he was getting ahead of himself, that the woman before him was his boss. He took this job for money, nothing else. But sex? Could he have that with her?
He didn't have the time nor resources to commit to a relationship, and he hoped they were on the same page. If not, so be it. But first, he needed one thing clear.
"Are you married?"
She smiled, like she expected it. "No. I mean, I was."
"Divorced?"
She shook her head. "Widow."
Ortega's lips parted in shock. He wasn't expecting this at all. "Um… sorry."
She waved it off. "It's fine." Then she tapped the space beside her. He kicked off the wall and swaggered over.
He sat beside her, and they both felt the mattress dip.
Up close, she looked magnificent but sad. Something twisted in his chest. He looked around. "Nice hideout."
She smiled. "It's not a hideout. A safe space." She looked around too. "Yeah."
"Do you feel safe?"
"Yeah."
"'Cause I'm here?"
"What? Please." She slapped his knee.
Ortega smiled, watching her bloom, and allowed himself to relax. He fell back and lay on the bed, looking at the ceiling fan.
Then she leaned back and lay beside him, facing him.
"How old are you?"
"Old enough to stand beside you."
She gave him the world's biggest, juiciest eye-roll.
"For real, though."
"Twenty-one."
She nodded.
"Is that my stamp of approval?"
"Stop," she groaned, slapping his chest lightly, and he chuckled.
They stared at each other for a few more moments.
Entranced by what they saw in each other's eyes.
Almost nothing sexual at first.
Until Mae's tongue ran over her lips.
Ortega found himself inching closer.
Softly tucking her hair behind her ear.
He admired the beautiful curve of her neck while she closed her eyes, lips parting slightly in anticipation.
A chuckle escaped Ortega instead.
Mae's eyes snapped open as she balled her fists.
"Shut up." She fisted his shirt.
Ortega couldn't help it. He kept laughing, head thrown back.
"Or else?" he managed between chuckles.
Mae's fingers folded quickly around his neck.
"Or else," she threatened with a cute expression. "I'll strangle you."
Ortega didn't know why his arousal surged at the idea of her grip tightening a little.
"Can you even?" he challenged.
Mae's eyes sparked.
She straddled him.
The silence between them thickened as their gazes held and their breaths flourished.
Mae's fingers loosened.
Ortega caught her wrists before she could release him.
His lips parted, breaths shuddering.
He couldn't get enough of the way her hands felt wrapped around him like this.
Mae squeezed.
Ortega found himself wishing she'd be a little rougher. More aggressive.
The air thinned.
Ortega's hands slid beneath her skirt and cupped her bare ass cheeks.
She gasped at his audacity, even though her hips were already moving slowly.
Back and forth.
Ortega bit his lip at the friction of being ground against by her soft, cushioning heat.
His fingers kneaded her ass as she rolled her hips on him.
Their skin flushed as their breaths thickened into something animalistic.
Mae lowered her lips to his.
Ortega hadn't looked away from her eyes the whole time, and it did something to her.
She kissed him before she could process it.
Ortega pulled her closer and kissed back hungrily.
They moaned against each other as her curves molded to his.
Still, it wasn't enough.
Mae peeled off her clothes in annoyance and dove back into devouring Ortega's lips.
He felt her fire burning, how bold she was getting. He wanted more of that.
When she leaned into his body again, he shifted her weight until he was on top and she was beneath him.
He peeled off his shirt.
Her hands were hot on his breathing abs.
He dove for her breasts, gobbling as she clawed the back of his head, holding him while his tongue ministered to her flesh.
As if that wasn't enough, her legs wrapped around his waist, imprisoning him to her. Not that he planned to escape.
Mae smiled wantonly as Ortega assaulted her nape with sloppy kisses. Her eyes closed, soft moans spurring him on.
As she massaged the back of his head with deft fingers, she couldn't help but giggle at his inexperience.
He didn't quite understand her body yet, but that was fine. The fire burned hotter in her stomach at how eagerly he took initiative.
Mae's laughter punctuated her moans and raspy breaths as Ortega tried to synchronize teasing her clit with his hardness while electrifying her collarbones with his tongue.
He failed woefully, and he knew it.
At one point, Mae playfully smacked his ass and demanded what the hell he was doing.
Ortega chuckled against her earlobe, and it made her burn hotter.
Then he straightened, and their eyes met again.
Mae's breath hitched.
"Is that all?" she teased.
Ortega bit his bottom lip and pressed himself into her.
Mae hissed as her pupils dilated.